


Toast and Chicken Soup

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Breakfast in Bed, Illnesses, Influenza, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-29
Updated: 2012-12-29
Packaged: 2017-11-22 20:52:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/614212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris is sick with the 'flu in bed; Tom brings him breakfast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toast and Chicken Soup

The morning light glowed softly through the closed curtains that were pulled tightly across the window, shading the bedroom from the rigours of the early hour. Chris was glad of the dimness of the room; his head still felt too bunged up, his eyes too sensitive to take much more than meagre lighting. He shifted in bed, groaning when the fresh movement caused pain to blossom anew in his aching limbs and head. He stilled and the pain receded until it settled into a more vaguely manageable level.

He blinked up at the ceiling, cracked an empty yawn, but his nose was too stuffed up to admit air properly into his lungs and he ended up coughing again. Despite the ‘flu that had kept him bed-ridden for three days, his stomach surprisingly ached for food, while his throat needed a soothingly cold drink to quench the flames of riotous coughing. 

He shifted again, and thought of calling for Tom, yet he didn’t think his throat was up to the challenge of anything louder than a dull croak. As if on cue, the bedroom door swung softly open and Tom shuffled in, wielding a breakfast tray and his habitual smile. Chris half sat up, propping himself up on his elbows and dislodging a cough from his rattling chest. He winced at the pain searing yet again through his throat, which produced a concerned look to appear on Tom’s face, replacing his former grin. 

“No, don’t move too much, darling, I’ve brought you breakfast in bed,” he said, as he set the tray down on the bed where he usually slept himself.

Chris made an attempt at a reply, yet it came out as a squeaky groan instead. Tom nodded, as though he’d understood, anyway, and helped Chris to shuffle into a proper sitting position, large hands warm beneath Chris’ armpits to steady him. Chris managed a laugh and a croaked - thank you - before Tom plopped the tray of food on his lap.

“You can eat that on your own, can't you? You don‘t want me to spoon feed you or anything?” Tom asked, teasing clear in his eyes. 

“I’m not that much of an invalid, mate; I think I can manage,” Chris managed to whisper out, before coughing into his cupped hand.

Tom raised one eyebrow before he laughed and settled beside Chris in bed, plucking the newspaper and a cup of tea from Chris’ tray once he was settled. Chris pretended not to notice that Tom also slipped a slice of toast from his plate too, stealthy movements due payback for bothering to provide him with breakfast in bed. He managed what he could, washing the toast and chicken soup down with fruit juice and hot, sweet tea, before he settled back with a contented sigh.

“Better?” Tom asked, as he looked up over his paper.

“A little,” Chris said. “Pass me my book?”

Tom studied him for a short moment as though judging whether he was well enough to read, before he nodded, having made his decision. He passed Chris the requested book and settled back down beside him again, a little closer than he had before. Chris smiled as Tom draped a supporting arm around his shoulders; Tom snuffled out a laugh when Chris settled a little closer. Neither spoke; instead, they each read in silence, the crinkling pages of the newspaper adding to the much quieter pages of Chris’ book. 

When Chris slowly slipped back into sleep once more, head coming to rest upon Tom‘s shoulder, Tom eased the book from the other man’s lax fingers, dutifully replaced the bookmark, and placed it back on the bedside table again. Chris didn't stir; instead he slept on, soft snores breaking the silence between them as his head threatened to burn odd fevered patterns into Tom’s shoulder. Tom didn‘t disturb Chris; instead he let him sleep, soon falling into a comfortable doze of his own. The morning stretched on without them, lazy hours ticking away unnoticed, as the sun slowly changed its position from Sunday morning into Sunday afternoon.


End file.
